


Puma's Acceptance

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Series: Lucha Underground: Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo's World Famous Friendship [4]
Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: 'Magic', ASL, American Sign Language, Angst, Bathroom, Bruises, Dust Bunnies, Eavesdropping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Español | Spanish, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hiding From Your Problems, Hiding in Plain Sight, Humor, Locker Room, Makeup, Misunderstandings, Poor Johnny!, Poor Puma!, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Slash If You Squint, Protectiveness, Pudding, Wrestling Ring, moral support, potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: You know when you have a bad day, then the next day the universe is like, "You know what? I think one bad day deserves another." Well how 'bout when that happens multiple days in a row?Part Four will examine that most unfortunate of phenomenon, as it applies to both our Prince, Puma, and a rattled Johnny Mundo. Will the adversity of Temple life pull them farther apart, or will the fates pull the emergency brake and force the two back together before someone goes off the road entirely?





	1. Makeup

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed Part Three! Now get set for Part Four! Yep. There's more angst, fluff, humor, hurt comfort and possibly a few more tears in store for our favorite Luchdores!  
> Don't forget about the possibility of more special appearances from some of our extended Lucha Underground family!  
> Without further ado:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The chapter title may not be what it appears. : )

Yep. It was official: Johnny Mundo was feeling... sad.  
So sad in fact that, the second morning after his fateful missing of Puma's match against the Machine known as Cage, and not seeing Puma all the first day after at the Temple, he called the hospital to which he was pretty sure the Luchadores who needed a physician were taken.

He'd asked whether a masked wrestler named Prince Puma had been admitted within the last couple days, he thought he'd been pretty well mannered about it too, but the person on the other end of the phone bit his ear off about patient confidentiality and the fact that, "Even if we had, we certainly wouldn't be telling any old Tom, Dick, or Harry who called up asking! Good day, Sir!"

The slamming sound of the hospitals' receiver punctuated the outburst pretty well.  
Johnny was still glad he'd called, because he was able to finally breathe a sigh of relief at a crumb of good news: Prince Puma was not in the hospital! Or, it was inadvertently indicated to him by the irate telephone answerer that he wasn't.  
Heehee. Pay attention to wording kids. Yours and others'.

Johnny laced up his sneakers and went to work getting to work. He arrived when he usually did, once again with some extra food and, this time, a pint of milk in tow. He'd even taken the time to find a writing instrument and scrawl across it, "The Champs' milk. That means Puma's!" Signed with a little sketch of the planet earth.  
Not too shabby.

He flashed his Luchador ID at the door, went straight to the cantina to store the pint in the prehistoric fridge, and proceeded to fret and worry all over again.  
Puma was generally in about the same time as he was. He wasn't -presumably wasn't- in the hospital, so what was the reason for his absence? He hadn't been here at all the day before.  
In fact: Not anywhere Johnny had gone had he seen hide nor hair of the Puma. Not in the gym, not in the restroom -although, that would have been weird. Who hangs out in a bathroom?-, not in the cantina, not in the _entire_ Temple.  
He also hadn't been able to rid himself of thoughts pertaining to all that had gone down the day before. Being trapped in that armored truck had taken a toll, and he was pretty sure it wasn't the truck itself, nor the simple reality of being stuck in it that had done the tolling, but what _being_ stuck had cost him: Front row seats to a Lucha Underground main event match.

All joking aside: It may have deprived him of his only shot at proving to his friend that he would be there for him. Because that's what friends do! They get themselves locked in trucks for each other and miss-  
Well, optimally they would _avoid_ getting locked in the back of vans, and definitely _not_ miss important, life altering events which they'd **promised** they'd be attending.  
Huh. This really wasn't looking too good on his friendship score card.

He'd _tried_ though! Johnny'd tried with all his not inconsiderable physical and mental prowess to make it to that fight! And that front row seat he'd _paid_ for. With his own money.  
That part wasn't all that important, really. He could eat that. Too bad he couldn't write it off as a business expense. Or _could_ he?  
No- leave the thoughts of potential tax evasion for some other time! He was worried about Puma and he'd finally taken a proactive step on the road toward no longer being worried! He was gonna ride that wave of momentum as far as it'd tow him, darn it!

Second step: Ask everyone he met whether they'd seen or heard anything about the Champ since the main event bout.  
This was gonna be **so** productive.

He found Drago in the gym, once again laying into the heavy bag like someone was gonna come take it away from him before he could get his fill of practice in.  
Johnny was pretty sure no one would dare. Except Sexy Star.

"Mornin' Drago! That bag breaking in nicely?" Drago gave a self satisfied, purring growl of affirmation. "Sweet. Need a spotter?" Johnny got a derisive snort for that one. "Fine. _Want_ a spotter?"

Drago paused to give the offer serious consideration, which just so happened to throw off his rhythm entirely. So he did _not_ get super annoyed, and motioned for Johnny to get behind the bag and keep it still for him.  
They exchanged nods once they were in position, and Johnny was reminded just how hard he needed to brace to keep that bag steady. Drago was a monster!  
Which led Johnny to wonder why it never felt, or looked, as if Drago was hitting this hard when fighting... sentient opponents. A dragon with a passion for sportsmanship? Interesting. Guess the Temple really did attract all kinds.

"Hey, Drago?" Johnny asked, tone lacking just a little of its customary confidence. Drago grunted. "Have you seen Puma? Or heard from him, since his big bout?"

The dragon-esque Luchador broke eye contact with the heavy bag to look Johnny intimidatingly full in the face. He also stopped the punching. "¿Por qué?" He asked, while putting a flat palm to his scaled forehead and pulling it away in a letter 'y' formation.

Wow. Two languages, both of them ones which Johnny wasn't fluent in, at once. Drago was really taking him to school today!  
"Um, why am I asking?" He got a nod. "Uh," Johnny hadn't expected this sort of response. Especially not to a question he'd thought was pretty standard, casual gym talk. He didn't know what to think of it.  
"Just wondering. Puma's usually here every day, and at least as early as you and me," he said, figuring guiding this thing back toward the safe side of mellow a good idea. He, after all, had no idea why Drago had reacted the way he had. Johnny'd thought Puma was friendly with the dragon man, but maybe he'd misread animosity as camaraderie and they actually hated each other?  
He sure didn't _think_ that was the way things were.

Drago studied him a moment longer than seemed natural. As if trying to reach past Johnny's words and uncover his true intentions. The guy was starting to freak his spotter out.  
His face inscrutable, Drago fell back into a striking stance and motioned for Johnny to brace for impact. Before going back to his beloved exercise though, he offered up, "¿Soy el guardián de mi hermano?"

"Did you just quote genesis at me?" Drago bared his teeth in a way Johnny _hoped_ meant, "Yep, I am super funny and you should be holding that bag steady with all you got." If it didn't: uh oh.

To Johnny's relief, Drago did go back to hitting the heavy bag. Though as improbable as it sounded, Drago was hitting it **harder** now. Johnny was beginning to worry that his gym buddy was being a mite defensive, or maybe trying to intimidate him with this quasi preternatural display of force.

Wait. Drago'd quoted straight from the mouth of Cain! Did that mean that, in this equation, Prince Puma was Abel? Wait a sec: Did that make Johnny God, because he'd asked the whereabouts of Abel- eh, Puma?  
On second thought: That quote _was_ pretty popular, and most folks used it in a way far removed from how Cain did in the actual text, thank goodness. Otherwise, there'd be a lot of people going around killing folks then casually rebuffing other's attempts to locate them.  
Drago had a strange sense of humor.

"Wait. Why does Puma get to be your brother?" Johnny said it loud enough that he could be heard over the sound of a heavy bag being tenderized.

Drago wasted enough breath to chuckle twice. Darkly.  
That wasn't helping his case at all.

 

It was the evening of the day after his first official match against Cage the Machine. He'd had a nice visit with Konnnan wherein he hadn't said anything to his mentor's, "How was your day?" Instead opting to shuffle all the way close to the chair Konnan was occupying and stare at the floor.

"Venga aquí. Come here," said the convalescing trainer, raising his hands off the armrests of his comfy looking perch. "Necesitas un abrazo. I can tell."

That's all it took. Puma was down on one knee and burying his head in the front of Konnan's shoulder almost faster than the older man could blink.  
Puma seemed hesitant to complete the gesture, so Konnan signaled he was serious about the hug by encircling his protege with a firm set of arms and pulling the Luchador closer.  
Puma's return squeeze was gentle. Konnan was almost embarrassed that the kid was still concerned about his constitution. Though, he supposed he couldn't blame him for it. He _was_ still sitting around in the hospital, after all.

"You take it easy today?" He got a nod. Which felt more like a nuzzle, if he was honest with himself. "Good. How's that throat doing? ¿Aún duele?" He got another nuzzle, but this time signaling a 'no'.  
Konnan pulled his arms free and sat back to study his protege. Puma was still looking at the ground, but at least he seemed in better condition than he had after last evening's... disappointments. Still, he thought Puma was being evasive, so he decided to be safer than sorry.  
"Déjame veo. Or we can call in a nurse," he negotiated, at the Luchador's near balk. He was glad Puma wasn't as stubborn as _he'd_ been at the same age.  
As it was, Puma stayed still for the visual examination of his tender neck. He even barely reacted when Konnan's hand closed around his entire throat, fingers and thumb spanning from right under one ear, all the way across to right under the other.  
"I know your EMT friends wouldn't have let you ride along without checking you out themselves, but you never know what can come up after the fact. Swelling, damage to the windpipe, the trachea, you get the idea," he explained, as he made little explorational, massaging motions with the pads of his fingers

Satisfied nothing was gonna keep his fighter from the ring for long, Konnan patted the kid on the shoulder and relaxed back into his seat. Puma swallowed in a way that sounded as if he'd been trying to avoid doing just that, and moved himself from the floor to sit on the edge of the funky hospital bed.

"Well, did you talk to anybody today?"

Puma shrugged, then figured Konnan deserved a proper response. _"Drago. Sexy Star."_

"Hmph, not bad. They're good Luchadores," Konnan said, nodding to himself. "You remember to eat lunch?" He asked, peering over the top of his glasses.

Puma squirmed a bit and shook his head, deeming it unnecessary to spill all the gritty details. After all, he'd spent the entire lunch section of the day playing with little bleached mammal bones in a secret attic shrine. Konnan did _not_ need to know about that. He'd probably want him to stop!

"You don't need to be cagey with me, Puma. You don't wanna talk about it, you're a grown Luchador, you decide what you do and don't gotta do."

Puma met his trainer's eyes for three seconds and nodded, feeling like a pressure was leaving his shoulders, allowing him to sit straighter. Which got him in a better position whence to posit a question.  
He raised a loose fist to his cheek, folded fingers in, and pulled it forward in a little arc, then he pointed at Konnan, and ended with bringing his two pointer fingers together in a swooping motion that ended with them steepled, around collar bone level. _"Are you coming to the Temple tomorrow?"_  
He asked it with a hopeful face.

"Ay, no, mijo. These doctors! Want me to stay one more day. Something about me being a senior citizen with a history of concussion, or something igualmente ridículo."

Puma's hopefulness drained right out, leaving him once more, staring at the floor.

"Hey, Champ. You eat dinner yet?" He got a rather chastised looking head shake at that. And he hadn't even been _trying_ to tell the kid off about treating his body well. Must've been down about something work related, and if Konnan had a guess: whatever it was, had something to do with Johnny Mundo. The skunk. Going to town on his protege's psyche and playing games with his tender, sensitive sensibilities.  
Why Johnny'd promised to show up to that match was a mystery to Konnan. Why he'd broken that promise though, Konnan could guess a few reasons a savvy Luchador might do something like that.  
But to mess with the head of someone so young, Johnny was nearly ten years older after all, just wasn't right. Especially when you weren't even _scheduled_ to fight each other anytime soon.

Konnan sighed at his pupil's youthful, largely inexperience related, problems and set to handling the 'no din-din' issue. "I saved you a pudding. They're too sweet for me anyway, and this one is... banana," he said, peering _through_ his glasses for once to read the label, "so it's basically fruit and coagulated milk in a cup." He reached beside himself to the little nightstand next to the chair, and brought forth the item of discussion, which Puma snatched as soon as it was within arms reach.  
"Uh, wait a sec. I think I dropped the spoon earlier. We might need una cuchara... nueva," he ended up trailing off. Dumbstruck in the face of such bad table manners.

Puma was three knuckles deep in the previously unopened pudding cup. Only three because that's how many of his fingers could fit into it at once, and he wanted the biggest scoop possible of the creamy confection. The better to stuff his gob **full** of the chunky banana and cream, light yellow, soppy, sugar high.  
He was practically purring with contentment as he licked the trailing vestiges of flavor out of the container, and... off of his probably not super clean hand.  
Konnan was pretty sure he heard a purr when the kid looked up from the desolation that had, but seconds earlier, been a fairly large, leftover calorie bomb. At least he'd gotten some food in him.

Puma was craning around and over Konnan's chair, without standing from the edge of the bed, trying to will more of his too soon gone treat into existence.  
Konnan let what he'd just **witnessed** pass without a comment of condemnation -nor commendation for that matter-, and instead went straight to the other bubble bursting fact of the matter.

"Sorry, fresh out." At the deflated Puma, which he'd been expecting after that utter _display_ , he rubbed his hands together in a show of conspiratorial support. "I bet you could lift one on your way out."

Puma gave him an eye and attempted to not look super put out. _"'Salright. I'm full now."_

Ack, having a straight laced protégé was no fun! Sometimes, anyway. At least he'd never need to bail Puma out of jail for petty larceny.  
Pros and cons, baby. Pros and cons, and perspective.

"You got a smudge on your mask. No se mueva," Konnan licked his thumb, leaned towards the bed, and swiped it across the leather near Puma's pudding chute. He then inspected it, "Hmph, banano," then rubbed it off on his pants and managed to not smirk when he caught the hint of a blush crawling below the big boy Luchador's mask. A mask which- ¡Hey, espérate un segundo!  
"Did you get your mask wet? And don't try to tell me it was a 'work related accident'!"

Puma's eyes went wide. He'd totally forgotten about that!  
Seeing as he had no defense, Konnan having disallowed the best one available, the Lucha Underground Champion sprang off the bed and definitely didn't let that momentum trip up his foot work.  
_"Thanks for dinner-see you tomorrow-okay bye!"_ Puma said, rushing for the door, hands barely keeping up with his mind.

"Uh huh, don't forget to condition that! And eat some _real_ food before bed!" Konnan missed the 'stern' mark with the last sentence, but it didn't bug him too badly. Far as he could _tell_ , Puma'd had a good time. Although: they were gonna have to have a serious conversation about table manners and the fine art of _not_ starving yourself until you can't help but forget them. He'd seen the Champ use a spoon before. Right?

 

So, yeah. It'd been a nice visit and Puma'd felt bolstered, even though he knew he'd have to face another day at the temple without his trainer there to keep him focused.  
He wasn't looking forward to that as he stared hard at the security entrance to the Underground Temple.  
He'd watched Mundo enter, from a furtive angle about half a block away, and was having serious second thoughts about needing to work out that day. His throat _was_ still bothering him. Maybe he could just jog a few miles and call that square?  
No, what was he thinking? He was the Champ and champs don't let non champs scare them off their turf. Especially not non champs who appeared to have brought way too much food for a one person lunch. Again. And were all smiles and friendly waves to the security staff.  
Puma was being a baby again. Time to act like a grown Luchador and storm the Temple! Forward!

 _"Hi, B. Hi, T,"_ Puma greeted, while flashing his Luchador ID to each security guard in turn.

"Hey, Puma."

"'Morning, Puma." They greeted, both far too entertained by the fact that he'd shown his card backwards _and_ upside down to try and call him back and demand he flash it the 'correct' way. Besides, the poor guy was looking kinda... blue.

Puma stuffed the card back into his duffel as he entered the locker room. Then he stored the bag in his locker, sparing a longing glance at the place his Championship belt was supposed to be hanging, and thanked his lucky stars that he didn't need to shove _himself_ in there instead.

He took a minute to do a few stretches, a few jumping jacks, then started his way towards the gym. Fully aware that that was the most likely place for Mundo to be at that moment and therefore, the place he most did **not** want to be, himself.  
But it was also the place where virtually all the equipment was kept and he really wanted to get his hands on a good workout right about then.

From just outside the locker room, he could hear the sound of someone -probably Drago- pounding away on the heavy bag. As he came closer and closer to the gym entrance, it became easier to hear that there was a second, far more talkative person in there with him. Spotting for Drago, by the sound of it.  
Wait. Was J- was Mundo asking Drago about _him_? Asking about Puma's whereabouts a second day in a row? Why?  
Turned out, Drago was wondering the same thing.

Puma didn't like that this would technically count as eves dropping, but they were talking about _him_ , so he stopped right to the side of the gym door and listened in.

Mundo sounded kinda stressed, though Drago could have that effect on folks. Except Sexy Star.

"Just wondering. Puma's usually here every day, and at least as early as you and me," Puma heard Johnny say, suddenly sounding completely at ease.  
Oh. It was just professional curiosity? Hm. If that was the case, then why was Mundo being a... being weird the day before and saying weird things when he thought no one else was around?

Drago, after a short break quoted the bible at Mundo, which was pretty funny if you ask Puma, Mundo quipped back and then they went back to the heavy bag exercise.

"Wait. Why does Puma get to be your brother?" Mundo queried, followed by a low chuckle from Drago.  
So that was it, huh? No biggie. They were just pallin' around without a care in the mundo.

Puma decided he didn't want to break up the fun, so he went back the way he'd come and took the long way 'round, through the EMT break room, to the bathroom.  
Why he went _there_ of all places was a bit of a mystery, even to him. Maybe he _wanted_ to catch a deadly disease and was just going back for a booster?  
Whatever. He figured he might as well look at his uncomfortable neck in a mirror for a while. Remind himself just why it was he was feeling so down. After all, it had nothing to do with the fact that Mundo was hunky dory, having fun in the gym with _his_ ASL buddy, _did_ it?

Puma walked up to the closest sink and leaned in close to the mirror. To his disappointment, he could see the shadow of a boot print now. That didn't set well. Not well at all. He _really_ didn't need **that** piled on top of everything else. His day was already disappointing enough.

He reached down, touched as little of the sink as possible in order to wet his hands under the faucet, and wiped at the mark, trying gingerly to see whether it was actually a smudge of grease or maybe dirt he'd picked up on his way in that morning.  
He wasn't surprised when all he got for his efforts was a dripping neck.

"Move over, Gato," someone said. _Right_ before shoving Puma with a flat palm in the left hip.

 _"What gives Ivee?!"_ He signed as soon as he was over the initial shock of being sneaked up on.

"Shut up. You were hogging the good mirror."

Puma glanced at the level of graffiti on the two reflective surfaces and wondered what kind of standards Ivelisse was holding them to. They looked equally trashed to _him_.

The self proclaimed 'Baddest in the Building' seemed to care exactly zero percent that she'd just shoved the Champ, nor that this, the only bathroom in the 'Luchadores only' part of the building, was about as nice a place to stand around in as a macabre mausoleum at midnight. Especially since, like in one of those, the longer you spent in that rotten room, the closer you felt to death.  
It was horrifying, really. Puma wondered on a daily basis, even on days when he didn't end up using the 'facilities', why _no one in the history of the world_ had taken a cleaning product to it. It just wasn't right.

Ivelisse, completely unperturbed with any part of the equation, just kept peering into the mirror with an impassive, calculating air. Puma, for his part, was just staring at her, completely befuddled.  
After a few more intense seconds, the Luchadora from the open road heaved a relatively small gym bag up and onto the sink, balancing it neatly on the edges of the bowl so it couldn't fall in.  
If it had, Puma might have gagged. That sink was a Petri dish. Both of them were!

Still completely ignoring the fact that a Puma was staring at her, Ivelisse unzipped the bag and spread the top wide. Revealing to anyone near enough to see... that it was full of ordinary gym bag stuff.  
Yep, even the waterproof baggie chock full of every makeup product known to man was pretty standard. Puma'd 'accidentally' seen the inside of a lot of gym bags since he'd started at the Temple, and a staggering number of them included a kit that shared a striking resemblance to the one Ivelisse was popping open and spreading all around the open spaces along the edge of the sink she'd claimed as her own.

Now Puma was fascinated. This had to be some sort of significant ritual. Did every Luchador with one of those bags have a variation on this one? He'd yet to see any of the other's, so he had no idea. Maybe some of them also lit candles and went so far as to disinfect the sink first? Although, Puma doubted very much that _anyone_ had touched such a substance to either of those sinks since the day they'd been installed.  
He was beginning to regret not having asked Konnan about it the first time he'd seen such a thing in Pimpiñela Escarlata's sequined duffel. Maybe he'd been missing out?

Puma didn't take his eyes off the mysterious flasks and beakers as Ivelisse grabbed one, shook her head, chucked it in the trash with an exasperated, "Estúpido, expired on me," and picked up another, similar looking one. She flicked the lid open and squirted some white-ish, almost sorta clear-ish, liquid slime onto one hand, snapped the lid shut, put the bottle down in a _different_ spot than where she'd had it before, and proceeded to massage the goo into her entire face, hands and neck.  
This was getting hardcore.

Puma, if possible, became more engrossed with every lightning quick move Ivelisse made. Especially when she pulled out a little toothbrush from a black tube and pawed at her eyelashes with it. They looked fatter and longer by the time she twisted the fuzzy brush back into its sheath.  
Yep. There was definitely some magic going on at the obviously capable hands of the multi-talented Lucha professional known as Ivelisse. Puma was just hoping it wasn't _dark_ magic.  
Although, he wouldn't peg _Pimpi_ as a dark magic wielder, so he decided he wouldn't judge Ivee as such either. Not until he had any proof anyway.

Around the time she'd finished darkening her eyelids, the 'Baddest in the Building' looked somewhere that wasn't her own reflection and seemed to notice Puma's absolute _gawking_ for the first time. "What!?" She asked, really enunciating that 't'. And sounding pretty peeved. "You never seen someone put on makeup before?!"

Puma, being fairly confident Ivelisse wasn't looking for a fight, kept his surprised upper body flinch small and shook his head. All the while split between studying the differences Ivelisse had caused to her face and reading the visible labels on the bottles and tubes strewn about the frankly disgusting sink.  
He'd not seen such an impressive shrine outside of the one in the Temple attic... until now. This one though, he might lose a hand touching without permission, he mused. Considering the calculating, pinch eyed glare Ivelisse was giving him.

"You know, you should really cover that up," she said, pinching her eyes harder and leaning in and up, to closer than Puma'd thought was a polite distance. Although, maybe to Ivelisse, polite had a different definition when you'd just watched her perform what may have been the entirety of a sacred, private ritual. Gulp.  
"Is that a **_boot print_**?" She backed up, raising her hands and giving a good head shake, "I don't want to know. You do you, Gato, but be aware: If you walk around with bruises in plain sight, people are _going_ to notice, and the people in **this** business tend to take advantage of things they 'notice'." She cocked her head and put her hands on her hips in a defiant pose. "Or, they try, anyway."

Puma blinked at her, still a bit distracted by just how many different changes she'd made to the shades and planes of her face in such a short time. That was skill. Plain and simple.

"Something tells me you already have some experience in that... area?" She said, tone a hair less severe.

It was Puma's turn to give a head cock, unsure to what 'area' Ivelisse was making reference.

When she realized he wasn't going to react further, she rolled her eyes and relaxed her posture back to normal. "Come here. I think I have something in your color." She picked up and handed him the bottle which Puma recognized as the one she'd snapped open first. "Rub a _speck_ of that in while I find what we need, don't be wasting all my moisturizer. You don't need much anyway."

The Champ couldn't help but feel honored, and glad that his neck had dried by then. For Ivelisse to invite him to join in and take part in her ritual? Not even the owner of the Día De Muertos shrine in the attic had offered! Not that they knew Puma knew about the shrine, but this was still a big deal!  
With great care, he squeezed the smallest dollop he could manage from the little bottle's mouth, and rubbed it into his neck.

"We just need to counteract the green undertone and you're in the clear," Ivee explained while riffling around for the correct item with which to enact some appearance altering magic on Puma. This was gonna be _awesome_.  
Ivelisse plucked up a squat little bottle and turned to her volunteered canvas. Her expression unsoured some when she looked up at him. "Not bad. Son of Havoc usually smears that stuff on as if he's greasing up for some old school Greco Roman wrestling."

Puma grinned at the praise. Heehee, if it turned out he was good at this, maybe Ivee would apprentice him? Teach him the dark- uh, the arts?

"Don't get cocky, this is where it gets tricky." Puma put on a serious front, which his excitement sluiced through more obviously than even Ivee's amusement through her fronted annoyance.  
"This tender?" She asked, motioning to the vaguely boot shaped mark.

Puma hesitated, not sure what the 'correct' answer was in this situation.

Ivelisse gave another eye roll, "I'll take that as a, ' **Hell** yeah!'." She mirrored Puma's acknowledging smirky grimace, and grabbed his close hand to put the bottle into. "Here: best way to learn is to do, anyway." Then she poked around her shrine and grabbed a nearly identical bottle and held it up for Puma to see.  
"Monkey- _Gato_ see, Gato do. Follow?"

Puma nodded, then unscrewed the lid from his bottle as Ivee did so for hers.

"Good. Now, I don't usually bother with marks under clothing, but today I'll make an exception. On account of me not wanting to apply it on your _delicate_ skin too hard. I hate it when grown Luchdores cry."

Puma was _pretty_ sure some part of that was a joke. The question was: which part?

Ivelisse hiked up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a well on its way to healed bruise, about the size of your average knee cap. Ouch.  
She made sure the hem wasn't about to roll back down, and exaggerated the act of loading up her index fingertip with some Ivee toned paste from her mysterious 'cosmetic' container.  
Puma did the same. But with the Puma toned paste.

Ivelisse showed Puma how to dab it evenly over the 'discoloration' -fancy word for bruise-, how to blend it in, and that you needed some sort of powder, "No! Not baking flour! What is _wrong_ with- Ugh! **This** kind of _powder_. Optimally in _your_ color, but pretty much any shade'll do in a pinch."

More than anything, Puma had been a tad shocked that Ivee had understood when he slapped his hands together twice in a rhythmic, palms facing each other, one goes up while the other goes down and they clap in the middle, way.  
Really, he conceded, that's kinda how the pizza chef on tv looked between kneading the dough and throwing it ten feet in the air at least six times.  
Talk about coordination.

Ivelisse even let Puma use the same powder brush after she'd demonstrated the proper way to not 'jack it up'. After that, they admired each other's handiwork. Puma wondering where exactly Ivee's 'discoloration' had gone -trying to understand how it had disappeared so thoroughly actually _hurt_ his brain-, and Ivelisse nodding in a 'not disappointed' fashion.

"Yeah, it'll do," she said, turning down the hem of her shirt. Then she turned to begin the last rite of the ritual: Clean up.  
Every bottle, magic 'cosmetic' wand, and tube, was summarily shoved back into the waterproof bag, nestled atop the rest of what was in the duffel, and zipped away. Until such time that the magic wore off and the ritual would require... a renewal? How many days would this stuff last?  
Before Puma could figure a way to ask Ivee the question burning hottest in his mind, in a way which she would understand though, she spoke.

"Remember to wash that stuff off before going to sleep _esta noche_. You don't want it clogging up your pores." At a befuddled look from the Champ, she added, "That's the tiny holes that let your skin breath."

Puma made an, "Oh," face, to which Ivee rolled her eyes.

"Take care of yourself. Okay, Puma?" Puma cocked his head and sent Ivelisse the most powerful air of befuddlement he could, while teetering his palm up hands at around waist height.  
Ivee gave a sigh and slung the not too big duffle's strap over one shoulder. "When we got in, Johnny Mundo asked me and Son of Havoc whether we'd seen you since your last fight." She noted the look of concern flit across Puma's face at the news.  
"Havoc blew him off; _I_ told him to stick it where the sun don't shine." She grinned at the memory of the zinger, the reaction on Mundo's face enough to brighten any of her days, then looked her freshest canvas straight in the eyes. "You need... any help with him?"

Puma's expression morphed a few different ways after that question. Shock made an appearance, so did incredulity, but it settled closer to understanding and denial as he started shaking his head and pointing where the well concealed 'discoloration' sat.

"It's fine. Like I said, 'I don't _want_ to know'. But me and Son of Havoc are always happy to lay the beat down on any scumbag deserves it. Just let us know." The face she made at him then was equivalent unto that of a wrathful God. Only, not directed _at_ him. That made all the difference.

Puma shook his head again and aborted his attempt at a proper explanation when he once again remembered that Ivelisse didn't understand ASL. Then he felt the weight of something in his hand and nearly had a conniption as he shoved it out towards an obviously ready to take her leave Ivee.

"Naw. It's your color and you're gonna _want_ it the next few days. That mark's gonna stick around a while, by the looks of it. And," she raised a finger in a, 'One more thing,' fashion, "a word of advise, one fighter to another: Cover the bruises before you leave home, do anything more when you _feel_ like it." Then she winked and turned on a heel to walk out the door. Sending a wave behind her as an afterthought.

Wow.

Wait. What was it _exactly_ that Ivelisse, 'Didn't want to know about'?  
Eh, she was gone and done with him anyway. Must not have been that important if she didn't bother explaining.

Puma walked out of the bathroom, _pretty_ sure he was still disease free, and with his head held high. Then proceeded to skulk quickly in the opposite direction of the gym as the sound of 'I really need to go' steps echoed toward him.  
Yeah, his problems weren't over by a long shot. But at least he wasn't gonna have that bruisy reminder staring back at him in the mirror every day. Thanks to Ivelisse's kind, generous, extremely aggressive nature.

Puma wound his way around the facility, back to the locker room and reverently slipped the squat container of 'cosmetic' magic into his duffel. With a smile on his face, and the knowledge that he had a short window of opportunity in which he could steal through the gym and snatch the speed rope without fear of detection by Johnny Mundo, he jogged off... for the gym.

Drago waved, _"Good Morning,"_ and tracked Puma's progress across the practice pads, over to the speed rope cubby, and out the secret door. He got a wave back for his efforts, at least.

"Hey, Drago. Was that- Did that door just shut itself?" Asked a fresh from the bathroom Johnny Mundo.

Drago gave him a _look_ , and shrugged.

Johnny stared at him, unsure how to feel about that... answer, but deciding that holding it against the dragon man was not the best way to stay in his good graces. He liked the _friendly_ Drago, thank you very much.  
So he led with a sigh and said simply, "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Drago cracked a grin and tackled a body double dummy to the practice mat. That dummy was never getting up again.  
Yep. Johnny liked the friendly Drago.

 

The remainder of Johnny's day in the Temple was whittled away with more training, a lunch break during which he was basically held up by Son of Havoc and Ivelisse for his entire two person lunch, leaving him with nothing but a mini cup of yogurt and a tiny, slightly shriveled orange. Both of which he'd scrounged out of the bowels of the cantina's wheezing refrigerator.  
Needless to say, he was left feeling... unsatisfied. He had, after all, bought that food with two very different Luchadores in mind.  
Followed up by more training and some rope work practice with Sexy Star, who _definitely_ didn't hold up her agreement to Johnny that she'd, "Treat him gently."  
Evidently, the Luchadora did _not_ appreciate being asked the whereabouts of coworkers in broken Spanish. She seemed to like it even less when Johnny asked _again_ in seventy percent of normal speed English.  
Maybe Johnny needed to rethink his technique? Because he'd been getting bad reactions from everyone he'd asked that day. He'd even had his lunch stolen.

After that rather painful though instructive sparring session with the Star, and a good cool down, he left the Temple for home. Once again wondering where in the world Puma could be, and why he'd felt as if the answer might have been, "Right behind you," a few times through the day.

 

The remainder of Puma's day at the Temple was similarly unimpressive. Speed rope practice up on the highest of the catwalks above the main ring, followed by climbing every available ladder with rungs that didn't appear as if **looking** at them too long would give you tetanus -that meant about half of them-, and a cat nap underneath the ring with the famous aztec symbol emblazoned in the middle.  
Konnan wouldn't be happy about how dirty his freshly conditioned mask got with him rolling around among the proliferative dust bunnies. He hadn't been able to help himself though. They were too cute! And they needed the company. He could now attest: it got lonely laying around down there all on your lonesome.

"Someone in here?" A strong voice echoed through the bleachers and under the ring. Right down to where Puma was wrangling a small nest of fluffy critters. The Champ froze, and held his breath, because that was the dulcet tone of none other than Johnny Mundo.  
"Temple's closing soon... Anyone there?" Puma counted to fifteen before he heard the hesitant scrapings of Mundo relenting and walking to the exit. Only then did he breathe a lungful of sweet relief. And at least half a dust bunny. He nearly choked.

Puma made slow work of swallowing the mouthful of dust and extracting himself from under the ring, before heading to the bathroom to wash off some of the gritty dirt from his _entire_ body, and the locker room to grab his duffel, then out the door and off to pay one last visit to el hospital.

Once outside the security exit, Puma felt a little bounce brighten his step. Konnan would be free of his comfy prison tomorrow! He'd be coming in with Puma to the Temple, and Puma was pretty sure that that was gonna make all the difference in the world!

Tomorrow was gonna be a piece of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, no one is too unhinged by the way things have spiraled. I know Puma and Johnny aren't doing too well, and I know there have to be some folks out there who are _so_ ready for the whole situation to be cleaned up, straightened out and thrown out with last week's garbage, but as you must know by now: Fate can be cruel indeed.  
>  Cross your fingers for some resolution in Part Five, but in the mean time: Enjoy this little bonus chapter! I made it just for ya'll!  
> Thanks for stopping by!  
> ~Anonymous
> 
> P.S.  
> You gotta click "Next Chapter" to find the Easter egg bonus. Good luck!


	2. Last Hospital Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner time in Boyle Heights, baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy the bonus chapter!

Evening found Johnny Mundo _almost_ enjoying a quiet TV dinner alone in his third story apartment. Strange choice of food, considering he wasn't watching tv. Nor sitting in the tv room.  
In fact, he'd taken his perfectly microwaved platter of spaghetti and 'meatballs' out onto the patio -read: fire escape landing-, wanting a little air along with his preservatives.

He punctuated every sticky swallow with a deep sigh, and wiped his saucey mouth with the back of his hand once he'd polished off the last of the red, stringy mess.  
His biggest sigh came right before a radical burp, which just so happened to emerge at sufficient decibels to scare a few pigeons out of the eves right above him.  
He ducked back inside his apartment in the nick of time, as two little birdie poops landed right outside his window. Just as his foot cleared the sill. One white glob scoring double points by splatting smack dab in the center of his empty TV tray. Covering his reusable spoon in... bird doody.

He'd never look at pigeons the same way again. Nor at that spoon, for that matter.

He heaved another sigh and set to cleaning up the unfortunate aftermath of his underwhelming din-din.  
Counteracting the tedium of scrubbing bird droppings from his 'patio' with happy thoughts of what kind of good time his unaccounted for friend might be having at that exact same moment.  
He hoped Prince Puma wasn't also fated to eating alone. 

Johnny smiled to himself as he dumped the refuse into his little kitchen trash can. Yeah. Puma was prolly having a great time. Wherever he was.

 

Turned out: Mundo hadn't been far off.

Over in the non emergency wing of the Lucha Underground Temple's go-to hospital, Konnan was surprising Puma with a fresh 'leftover' banana pudding cup. By the look on the Champ's face, you'd think Christmas had come early.

"Tranquilízate, chico. Here," Konnan, not having bothered _asking_ whether Puma'd fed himself -because obviously, like any self respecting, responsible person did on _instinct_ ; he _hadn't_ -, placed a clean spoon, with patient deliberation, into Puma's scooping hand.   
"You gonna use that? He asked a befuddled Luchador. "Or am I gonna hav'ta feed you myself?"

That got a horrified head shake and nod and shake and nod, followed by a very clear 'gimme' motion. At which Konnan squinted, just to let the kid know he was serious about using the spoon, before relenting and passing over the unopened cup.

Puma took it, nearly dropping the spoon in his excitement, then nearly dropping it a second time trying to get the pudding open, and finally remembering which end of the spoon got you the biggest mouthful of sweet, sweet victory, he began 'eating'.  
More like inhaling, Konnan mused privately, as he watched, with far less trepidation this evening, his protégé polish off the whole thing nearly as quickly, though hindered some by the spoon. He was proud enough with the improvement that he didn't even _try_ to stop Puma from using the handle of the spoon to scrape the last molecules of yellowish slime from the inside of the cup and into his waiting maw.  
He _did_ think that then sucking on the spoon as if it was a lollipop was taking things a bit... overboard, but the **purring** was just too precious. He couldn't bring himself to break up the kid's fun. Not until Puma started eyeing the empty cup as if he was barely holding himself back from licking the entire inside. There might, after all, still be a little pudding _flavor_ left behind!

"Okay, snack time's over," Konnan said, pulling himself out of his chair and snatching both the utensil and empty cup from Puma before the kid did anything he couldn't forgive him for.   
After tossing them across the room and scoring two pointers off the backboard into a recycling can, he turned full attention back on Puma. Who only squirmed a little.

"Hm. Mask's looking good. Little dusty, but conditioning came out nice," he said, scrutinizing the stitching to make sure it wasn't puckering. "Just don't dunk it under water again, got it?"

Puma nodded, a convincing amount of genuineness on his face while he did.

"Good. Now, lemme see your neck again. Still hurting?"

Puma hesitated just long enough that Konnan could tell the kid both didn't want to lie to him, and didn't want to worry him. Cute, but this was wrestling, and he was the the kid's trainer, so that coy act was gonna have to stop at some point. Optimally _before_ something truly regrettable happened.  
Well, anything _else_ truly regrettable, anyway.

"Déjame veo," he said, stepping closer and raising his arms in a 'show me' formation.

Puma held in a sigh, knowing this was the only way to get his trainer to stop worrying, and scootched forward to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Hm," Konnan hummed, scrutinizing the younger fighter's neck. Wondering why it looked a little chalky, but remembering before he felt compelled to ask about it, that Puma's whole body and mask looked a bit... dusty.   
What did the kid get up to through the day? Did he _really_ need a babysitter around to keep him on track?  
Eh, tomorrow he'd make sure the Champ stayed out of trouble.

Using both hands, Konnan massaged the Champ's neck in a way which would have felt pretty nice under normal circumstances, or if you had a cold, but as it was, made Puma's eyes water just a tad.   
Puma didn't hold it against him though. He knew his trainer wouldn't do anything of the sort of he didn't think it was necessary. Or, a _good idea_ , anyway. An ounce of prevention, or whatever.

Konnan found no out of the ordinary swelling and nothing which put up red flags, so he nodded and stepped back, vaguely wondering just how dirty the kid had gotten himself. 'Cause he could feel some tackiness on his hands.   
Without making a show of it, being a rather polite person and all, he put his palms up in his line of glasses sight, and had to double take at the sight: They were mottled with what appeared to be Puma toned splotches. 

Konnan's eyes nearly bugged from their sockets as he stepped right back up into his protégé's space and found the reason for the slightly chalky parlor.  
There, right smack dab in the middle of everything, was a boot print shaped bruise, still _mostly_ covered by whatever unnatural substance had stained his own hands.  
His blood pressure responded faster than did his ire, and he pointed firmly, not quite sure yet which emotion he was projecting, right at the proof of Puma's trauma.

"You been hiding this from me? Of all the loco- Are you trying to hide _this_ from **me** \- from your **_mentor_**? Puma, baby, that's a good way to get yourself-"

Puma cut him off the best way he knew how: grabbed him by the shoulders and shook his own head, making sure Konnan responded to the pleading look in his eyes and agreed to hear his side before letting go.   
He couldn't afford to let things get out of hand. Not here too.

 _"No. Ivee- Ivelisse helped me! Said people take advantage of things they 'notice'."_ Puma shoved his hands into his hastily unzipped duffel and extracted a little container, which he held out until Konnan took it. _"Gave me that."_

Konnan raised his eyebrows, kinda shocked that the 'Baddest in the Building' had done **any thing** to help out a fellow fighter. Much less the Champ himself.  
He was also... touched that there seemed to be at least one other person in that Temple looking out for his protégé. Though, he'd definitely be keeping an eye on that. Didn't want something treacherous happening there. Puma _was_ , as evidenced by pretty much **everything** , still a pretty naive Luchador.

Puma caught his attention and pointed at the little container, then made an 'O' with one hand, followed by switching the fingers into a peace sign with the thumb between the bunny ears.

"Yeah," said Konnan, handing back the botella de cosméticos. "It's okay. You tell Ivelisse 'thanks'?"

Puma smiled as he zipped the present back into his bag, and shook his head. He hadn't had the chance, now that he thought about it. He'd have to figure out a way to tell her... Maybe writing a note would be best?

"Perdóname, mijo. I should know by now: You don't got a deceptive bone in your _body_." He sat back in his seat, tuckered somewhat by the excitement and his little outburst.   
"That Ivelisse must have a good head on her shoulders, 'cause she's right, kid. Anybody gonna be in a match against you see that moretón, they'll go straight for the Clothes Lines, the Headlocks, anything to mess you up worse," he said, counting off on his fingers. His expression sour.  
"I say keep it up. It was good enough to fool me, it'll do against Cage no sweat."

Puma smiled. Then he slung his duffel up, and stood from the bed, ready to take his leave and give Konnan the rest of his evening to... rest.

Before moving for the door, Puma repeated his question from the last visit. Again ending with his pointer fingers steepled around collar bone level, in the sign for 'Temple'.

"Yeah, I'll be there." Then Konnan waved towards the exit and slumped down into his chair. "Vía con Dios, mijo. Hasta mañana."

Puma brought a soft fist forward in a little arc from his cheek once more, grinned, and headed out the door. 

"Tomorrow indeed," Konnan scoffed to himself. "If either of us last that long!" 

A nurse who just happened to be passing at that particular moment, peered in with a concerned hue to their questioning look.

"Kids," was Konnan's only defense.

The two shared a conspiratorial head shake, and went about their respective evenings. Neither concerned over the other.  
Concern! That'd been what made Konnan feel so- so... Concern was why he'd nearly bitten his Luchador's head off.  
Hm. He'd have to keep an eye on that. Wouldn't want himself going soft in his retirement. Though, if that was the price he'd have to pay to have Prince Puma as his protégé... It'd be alright by him.  
Probably.  
Some day, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll's dinners are enjoyable too! Hopefully _more_ so than Johnny's! Poor guy.  
>  Till next time!  
>  ~Anonymous


End file.
